


Perhaps (It Won't Be That Bad)

by Supernova95



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman - Fandom, DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supernova95/pseuds/Supernova95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because his parents were Lord and Lady Drake, Keepers of the county of Bristol in the Kingdom of Gotham meant that he was subjected to the consequences of that. The consequences being that he was to marry his Majesty King Bruce, of the House of Wayne and rightful ruler of Gotham.</p>
<p>To many this would be a privilege, an honour, but to Tim it was a duty; and a tedious one at that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perhaps (It Won't Be That Bad)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [babybirdblues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybirdblues/gifts).



Today was the day, and Tim was well within his rights to be getting cold feet. Ice cold feet.

And it wasn’t his fault… Not one bit. Just because his parents were Lord and Lady Drake, Keepers of the county of Bristol in the Kingdom of Gotham meant that  _he_  was subjected to the consequences of that. The consequences being that he was to  _marry_  his Majesty King Bruce, of the House of Wayne and rightful ruler of Gotham.

To many this would be a privilege, an  _honour_ , but to Tim it was a duty; and a tedious one at that.

Perhaps he will be like the trophy wives he has heard about in other Kingdoms; largely left to their own devises and brought out for special occasions, or perhaps he might be like the legendary Lois Lane, wife to the ruler of the kingdom of Metropolis Kal, of the House of El; he may be allowed his on thoughts, his own views.

Whatever the outcome he was under no delusions that he would be loved in this new arrangement, because people do not find love in marriages arranged before they were born. How is that even possible?

Especially he had never met the man before; a man who was twice his age and already had three sons. Two were older than him and adopted, but one was younger, and said to be  _his biological heir_.

King Bruce had never been married.

What hope did Timothy have at keeping the attention of a man who impregnates someone and then does not honour them by marriage? He had none.

Because all in all Tim was a plain boy, educated and cultured, but frail and weak for a Lord’s son. Should this arrangement not have been, he would have been two years shy of becoming one of the King’s knights. He would have been a laughing stock, if he had not been thrown out as a pathetic excuse of a man.

No, Tim had always been far more attuned to the more womanly crafts; cooking, cleaning and sewing than he had to fighting, hunting or war.

That was not to say he did not know how to fight and kill, because he did; and he was ruthless. But it had just never appealed to him. Instead persuading his teachers to focus more on teaching him the theories of war, the arts of healing and the skills or reading and writing.

Making him one of the Kingdom’s best strategists. Not that the King knew that.

Not when his parents didn’t even know, because they never bothered to ask once they saw that he wouldn’t grow into the man they thought he should be.

The King knew nothing about him and he knew nothing about the King; and to Tim that was nothing but a sign of foreboding.

Perhaps he was reading too much into this, perhaps the King is in fact the nicest man on the planet and perhaps he will love Tim until the day one of them dies…

Perhaps had a lot of implications.

Perhaps Bruce would ignore him, and not ask him to bed; instead finding comfort in one of Gotham’s many Brothels, or perhaps he would be kind, gentle and not mark him in  _his_  love making, or perhaps he would be cold, ruthless and so bruising that Tim would not be able to move let alone walk the next day.

Tim may even be able to keep up his studies, and show the King that he was not as useless as his parents had probably apologised for him being.

Then again perhaps his parents had not sung his praises and the King already hates him so much that he is already planning on his release from their marriage; a fall whilst exploring his new home? An assassination attempt on the King gone wrong? A quite offing? A painful, drawn out death?

-

The thoughts were hard to forget as he entered the marriage chamber, even though his husband to be was the most handsome man in the room. Looks could be overly deceiving, and from they way the King was built he could probably snap him in half with his little finger, let alone what the rest of him would do to Tim.

And even as the smooth, luxurious voice praised him on the simple elegance of his taylor made robes and the deep blue eyes lustily undressed him in the King’s mind’s eye, Tim did not relax, and he would not relax for some time.

As he learnt with his parents people are unlikely to show their true colours in a crowd, but when alone is when they come out in bright and sometimes very painful ways.

-

The ceremony itself was nothing special, or different to other wedding ceremonies Tim had been to, but as the sun set over the western horizon he was no longer Timothy first son of the House of Drake he was ‘Queen’ Timothy, property of the King and the House of Wayne.

This he had expected.

What he had not expected was that, immediately after the ceremony had finished, he was lead from the chamber by the King’s adviser, Alfred, and into Wayne Castle properly.

It was an imposing place, great grey stone walls and gothic architecture filled the halls, though so did many tapestries of bright and vibrant cultures hanging off the walls, and skins of animals long dead lining the floors as trophy rugs.

Whoever the King was he was well traveled.

However this fact became less apparent as they traveled deeper into the castle, where the passages and hallways were bare apart form the odd window or torch holder.

Apparently the King was a well traveled man, who did not think much of it but thought that he was supposed to flaunt it in front of guests, which was nothing like his parents who lined everywhere they could in Drake Manor with their artefacts and gifts.

Then again this was the King. He did not need to put reminders of his status everywhere… He was the King.

Finally they reached a large room with a large bed that Tim supposed to be the master bedroom, and after being told kindly to prepare himself as the master will be up soon, he could check being ignored off his list of possibilities for the his first night.

He was being asked to bed.

-

It was more than half a candle’s burning before the King entered the room. Tim’s only indication of this was thanks to his ear’s over sensitisation to the room’s silence, and the door held a small creak in it’s hinges.

The King himself was as silent as the night itself. He says nothing as he, Tim presumes, changes out of his own ceremonial robes: black with the House of Wayne’s coat of arms embroidered in gold; a stark contrast to his own blinding plain white robes (symbolistic of his soon to be stained purity).

He nearly flinches when a strong hand curls around his shoulder, and Tim is surprised when he feels the elder man’s erratic heartbeat indicating that he is as nervous as Tim is.

The hand turns him from sitting on the very edge of the bed facing the window, to lying in the middle of the bed, the King hovering over him, and sitting between his now parted legs, slowly caressing one of his ankles.

“Tell me, how have I come to have such a treasure as you my dearest Timothy?” Tim could drown in the King’s voice alone, let alone his soft touches and caresses.

“How do you know I am a treasure my liege, for all you know I cold be the most horrible person you have ever met.” His laugh is deep and heartfelt.

“How so? For I have heard that the Timothy of Drake Manor is a kind thoughtful boy who can wind any man, woman, child or woodland creature around his little finger and have them doing his will in less that a candle burn.”

The King dropped his foot and leaned in, not breaking eye contact with Tim “For I have also heard that the Timothy of Drake Manor is not only kind but exceedingly smart and studious, but I have told that although you can cook and sew you can also take a man’s head off without another thought if you believe him to be in the wrong.”

He was so close now that Tim could not only hear the King’s breathing in his ear but he could feel it on his skin. “For I have also heard that you have a mind able to comprehend strategy in a way that exceeds even mine” a small nip at his ear lobe had Tim’s breath hitching and heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. “So tell me Timothy of Drake Manor, how again are you not a treasure?”

This was his turn to laugh “Sire, you seem to know all about me and my secrets, and yet I seem to know nothing of you or yours, how is that fair?”

The King considered it for a moment before teasing words spewed from his mouth “Hmmm, that is true, perhaps you should get to  _know_  me a little better?”

But the King did not let him answer, instead opting to catch his lips in a passionate and deep dance, one that Tim had no right to refuse even if he wanted to; he was the rightful property of the King, he could do anything he liked… And when the hand slipped between his naked legs Tim knew the King was going to do whatever he liked.

And Tim realised he didn’t mind one bit.

Perhaps had many implications.

And perhaps this wouldn’t be as half as bad as Tim feared.

Perhaps…

**Author's Note:**

> Tim is thirteen here, in medieval times this was about the time at which someone was ‘of age’ to be married off and start a family (at least it was for girls) so although according to modern society he is underage he’s not really…


End file.
